


Love speaks the truth

by glass0marbles



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Seriously this is so cheesy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, how dare you make me be soft sir, i felt more embarrassed writing this than when I write smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24204364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glass0marbles/pseuds/glass0marbles
Summary: Geralt takes a bath. Jaskier takes a chance.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 121





	Love speaks the truth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IndigoDream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoDream/gifts).



> My friends are insuffereable and are asking for softness and I love them, so here we go.  
> One serving of fluff with extra cheese. <3  
> Seriously though, I hope you enjoy it!

'You know, you actually have really nice hair. When it's not covered in grime or blood or--' a hand lifts from Geralt's scalp to gesture, 'entrails. Or something.'

Geralt snorts lightly. He is lounging in his second round of bathwater of the evening, the first one having been replaced after the worst of what had indeed been grime, blood, entrails and  _ something _ had been washed off. It would have been enough for Geralt, but Jaskier had insisted that he get properly clean, take care of himself for once. What that really means is that Geralt gets to sit back and relax while Jaskier pampers him, and well. He’s not complaining. The day’s hunt had been messy and exhausting, even for his standards. He’d gotten away with only minor injuries, much to Jaskier’s relief, but the fight had lasted over an hour. With the difficult terrain and the climb down the mountain afterwards, Geralt had been beat when he finally returned to the inn.

The bard is kneeling behind him now, running a comb through his hair and slowly working out the tangles. He’s humming quietly to himself as he works, and he’s being so  _ gentle _ , Geralt could probably fall asleep right then and there. He feels  _ safe _ . And isn’t that just the strangest thing? A witcher, feeling safe. In the presence of a human, no less.

He huffs a little laugh, eliciting an inquisitive noise from Jaskier, who interrupts his ministrations to lean forward over the edge of the tub and peer at Geralt’s face.

‘Nothing,’ Geralt grunts at the unspoken question, ‘keep going.’ He leans back and closes his eyes.

Jaskier makes an offended noise, but returns his hands to Geralt’s hair, now working through it with his fingers instead of the wooden comb.

‘Keep going, he says.’ he grumbles. ‘What am I, your manservant?’

Geralt just hums in response. Jaskier’s tone is all theatrics and beneath that a fondness that makes warmth bloom in Geralt’s chest.

‘Tsk.’ Jaskier says, and Geralt can hear him pulling the stopper from a glass vial. The musky scent of marigold oil fills the room as Jaskier starts working it into Geralt’s hair. He allows himself to sigh contentedly and lean into the touch.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

‘All done.’ Jaskier says, but his hands still linger and Geralt can hear his heartbeat quicken. He tenses and opens his eyes, scanning the room for anything that might warrant such a reaction, but finding nothing. Jaskier’s fingers flutter over his scalp, lingering there and picking up some strands, playing with them without any real purpose.

‘Geralt?’ There’s an undercurrent of nervousness that pitches his voice slightly higher than usual.

‘Hm?’ Geralt is alert now, ready to jump out of the bath should he need to, even though he still can’t pinpoint the cause for Jaskier’s agitation.

‘Um…’

He feels Jaskier shift behind him, his fingers still and he drops his hands, only to return them to Geralt’s head moments later, as if he doesn’t know what to do with them.

‘This might be an awkward moment to tell you this, but--’ he pauses. ‘Well, actually, any moment would be pretty awkward, I suppose, for saying something like this, but I thought now is as good a time as any, so.’

He’s babbling, talking around what he actually wants to say, and Geralt feels amusement tug at the corners of his mouth. When did he start finding this habit endearing instead of just annoying?

He pulls away from Jaskier’s fidgeting hands and turns in the tub to face him, suppressing the smile curling his lips. He doesn’t want Jaskier to think that he’s not taking him seriously, not when this is evidently a topic he is nervous about, and serious too, judging from the lack of jokes and flippant remarks.

He meets Jaskier’s eyes with a level gaze, only slightly raising a questioning eyebrow, an invitation for Jaskier to speak his mind. The bard takes a deep breath and stares back with determination.

‘I love you.’

Geralt can hear his heart hammering in his chest, he sees and senses the tension in every muscle of Jaskier’s body, but that blue gaze never falters, is never averted, even as the silence stretches between them, and Geralt gazes back. Even with all the signs having been there, all the little ways Jaskier has told him before, shown him love and affection, having it spelled out to him so blatantly takes Geralt aback and leaves him at a loss for words. Jaskier loves him. He knew this, somehow, it had been a truth he had come to accept, at first begrudgingly, then hesitantly, before gradually allowing himself to embrace it, allowing it to resonate with his own feelings for his unlikely companion and letting it grow into something that now feels too big for words, too much to be expressed in a simple gesture. But Jaskier has laid bare his heart for him, right there in their dingy tavern room, in the peace and quiet they have found together, and Geralt is in way over his head, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do his very best to return the favour. Because he loves Jaskier. He does. With every beat of his heart, every rise and fall of his chest, with every blink of his eyes, he  _ loves  _ Jaskier, and he needs him to know this. No, he needs him to  _ be sure  _ of it.

Geralt rises from the tub, unmindful of the water he is getting everywhere. He offers a hand to Jaskier, whose mildly horrified expression relaxes a bit when Geralt doesn't run out on him, and he takes it and lets Geralt pull him up off the floor. He doesn't let go of Jaskier's hand, using his free hand to cup his face, and Jaskier's breath hitches as he leans in, resting his forehead against Jaskier's.

'Jaskier.'

'Yes?' he sounds breathless, and this close Geralt can  _ feel  _ his heart thundering in his chest.

'I love you too.' He says softly. 'I love you, Jaskier.'

'Oh.' Jaskier mouths and Geralt presses his lips next to the shape of his mouth, gently.

'I love you.' He says again because it feels good, it feels right to say it, freeing somehow, like a secret he's kept too long that he can finally reveal. Except that it's not a secret he's telling, it's a simple and all-the-same complex truth, it's thousands of words and emotions wrapped into one sentence.

'I love you too.' Jaskier breathes, as if he hadn't been the first to say it and then he kisses him, softly and gently, the way he always touches him, like Geralt is something precious, to be treasured and treated with care. And in Jaskier's arms, being held and holding him in return, he's starting to believe that he is.

**Author's Note:**

> Naked love confessions, amiright?
> 
> It's super late and I feel like this is super weird, but it's made with love and I feel like that should count for something.


End file.
